


Series 6 Episode Codas

by Kienova



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Episode Codas, F/F, F/M, Family Dynamics, Gen, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9474569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kienova/pseuds/Kienova
Summary: Extensions and snippets from each episode of series six. May contain spoilers for all aired episodes to date.





	1. Telling Sister Julienne

**Author's Note:**

> Felt like writing extensions to scenes for episode one so now I'm going to try and do at least one for each new episode this season. :)

The tyrannical nature of Sister Ursula and the worry over Sister Mary Cynthia drew Sister Julienne to Shelagh's company, the elder woman making them tea on rote. She knew she wouldn't express her true anguish to the younger woman, knowing that Shelagh had more than enough on her plate with Patrick, Timothy and Angela, but she needed the reassurance regardless, even if it was simplistic in nature compared to the tirade she truly wanted to go on. Taking a deep breath she picked up the teacups, walking back towards the desk and where Shelagh stood. She passed the saucer to the younger woman, watching how her face blanched suddenly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

It was no secret Shelagh hadn't been well since they had been leaving Africa, the slight woman spending a significant amount of time on their boat journey being sick and confined to her cabin. The majority of the nurses had been stricken with a slight stomach bug, but Shelagh seemed to suffer the worst, even outdoing Barbara in her ability to turn green every few moments on the ship.

“I'm sorry,” Shelagh started, keeping her hand near her mouth as she put the teacup down, seeming to find the action comforting in case her stomach decided to rebel again. “It's just… the smell of the milk. Breakfasts have been impossible.” The words were measured as they flowed from her, a slight smile playing at the edge of her lips as she finally moved her hand away. Sister Julienne felt her heart start to beat double time, her stomach clenching painfully at a hope that bubbled inside her.

“Breakfasts?” She managed to question, trying to keep herself in check. She didn't want to get ahead of herself, not wanting to have the thoughts that were flying through her mind to be shattered, but she couldn't help but wish for them to be the truth.

“I can't quite believe it myself, Sister,” Shelagh began, not able to fully meet Sister Julienne’s eyes for a moment. “Even Patrick doesn't know. But… I'm expecting a baby,” the words came out rushed, a smile fighting at the blonde’s features even as her face crumpled. “And I'm so afraid.” Sister Julienne couldn't contain the grin that broke out across her face as she reached for her former protégé, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Oh! And I'm not,” she breathed, feeling Shelagh rest her cheek on her shoulder, her slight form shaking as she struggled not to cry. “Because I never stopped praying.”

“But we were told we could never have children.” Shelagh said, her own emotions bubbling so close to the surface that she couldn't help but expel the last bit of doubt to the woman she viewed with so much care and reverence. Sister Julienne could see the fear in the woman's eyes, the way she wasn't sure how to deal with the conflicting feelings within her. The elation at the concept of being a mother again, the terror of knowing the realities of pregnancy and all the complications it could bring. And underneath it all, the fear she held that her husband wouldn't be as thrilled as she truly was, scared that he would think they were too old or that her health to fragile for the pregnancy. Sister Julienne fought the urge to cup the girl’s cheek and reassure her like a parent.

“Shelagh, there's no doubt at all now. You can ask him to share your joy.” The words came easily to the nun, secretly rehearsed with every prayer she had said over the last few years, asking God to take away the lingering pain that even time could never really fully remove. She knew Shelagh was happy with her life, that she loved the children who filled the house with laughter more than anything, despite how they didn't share her blood. But she also knew what this would mean to both Shelagh and Patrick who had been struggling through so much after the Thalidomide scandal. What it would mean to all of Nonnatus, if she was honest with herself.

“I don't know how to tell him,” Shelagh mused, pulling back and looking up at Sister Julienne, looking younger than she had in years to the older woman. Sister Julienne motioned for her to sit down, making sure to tuck the teacup far away so it wouldn't turn Shelagh's stomach again.

“I'm sure you will think of a brilliant way my dear. But I also know that Patrick will be happy to hear the news no matter how you tell him. Now, tell me how you found out,” the sister encouraged, sitting down across from the other woman, unable to contain the curiosity that simmered in her blood for a moment more, no longer worried about her own anger or concerns, too wrapped up in the reality that the once timid young woman was now strong, independent, and about to become a mother in the only way she had yet to experience.

“I thought I had just caught something from Africa but after a day or so of being back I realised I was mostly getting sick due to certain smells. Or first thing in the morning. It was waking me up Sister, the need to be ill. Patrick told me I should have some tests run and signed a requisition form and… well, I… I just had this feeling. But I didn't want to get my hopes up. They had… they said there was no chance of this happening but I just felt different.” She blushed slightly, looking down at her hands, wringing them in the fabric of her cardigan. “If it had just been the nausea I could have thought it might be a parasite but my breasts are so sore.” She cringed at the words, not liking to confess such an intimate fact.

“Oh my dear,” Sister Julienne chuckled, reaching across the table to clutch Shelagh’s hands in her own. The action was so maternal Shelagh felt herself tearing up, suddenly wanting nothing more than for the other woman to tell her what to do. All her training and years of working as a nurse, midwife, and mother to her adopted children hadn't prepared her for how insecure she suddenly felt, not knowing her own body anymore.

“I…” Shelagh started, seeming to struggle with her own words. “When I first left the order to be with Patrick I always… I always pictured that you would be there. If I were to have a baby. My own mother has been gone for so long and yet you have been here constantly and I just… I would very much like it if you would be there with me. Both now and when the baby comes… you're the closest thing I have to a mother.” The words were whispered in the silence of the room, Shelagh unable to keep her eyes off her hands, cringing as she managed to get through the request. Sister Julienne was out of her chair almost instantly, coming around to crouch down in front of the woman, cupping her cheek in her hand and drawing Shelagh's gaze up to meet her own.

“I would love nothing more to be blessed with such an opportunity Shelagh. Seeing you grow from the young girl who barely knew her own mind to a skilled nurse and midwife, to someone who is able to balance their devotion to God while being a devout wife and mother has brought me more joy than I ever thought I would get to see. To witness you enter into this new chapter in your life and to be present at the birth of your baby will be a dream and a blessing all at once.” Shelagh launched herself at Sister Julienne, hugging the woman tightly as tears slipped from between her lashes again.

“Thank you,” Shelagh whispered, feeling as if she had the maternal support she craved from the moment she had the slightest suspicion of her condition at last.

“Always my dear,” Sister Julienne answered, rubbing her back.

“Shelagh?” Patrick's voice called, his footsteps echoing as he crossed the hardwood. Shelagh pulled back, scrubbing at her eyes and trying to clear the tears from beneath her glasses. Sister Julienne passed her a handkerchief, watching her tidy herself with motherly affection before Patrick entered the room. “Is everything all right?” He questioned, worry etching his features at the sight of his wife’s red rimmed eyes. “You've not been ill again, have you?”

“No love, I'm all right. Sister Julienne was just telling me about what happened to Sister Mary Cynthia,” Shelagh replied, covering quickly. Patrick nodded, a grim expression on his features. “You will let me know if there is anything I can do?” She asked, the questioned directed at the nun.

“Of course. And if you need anything please don't hesitate to speak with me,” Sister Julienne replied, squeezing Shelagh’s shoulder as she slipped out of the room. While residual agitation with Sister Ursula would undoubtedly resurface to the forefront of her mind in the morning, she couldn't help but beam at the reality that the girl she had watched grow was now carrying a little miracle inside her. 


	2. 6x01 - Telling Patrick Extension

Patrick pulled Shelagh close, a grin splitting his face as he felt her hands coming to rest on his cheeks, stroking the skin there before they slid down his arms, resting on his elbows.

“Oh Shelagh, really?” He questioned. Seeing her nod when he saw the picture had confirmed it in his mind, but he needed the verbal response as well, hope swelling in his chest at the idea that he and his wife had defied the odds of science. She beamed up at him, unable to contain the excitement that was bubbling inside her at finally sharing the secret that she had carried around for the last few weeks.

“I'm pregnant,” she whispered, giggling uncontrollably as Patrick swooped down, pressing a kiss to her lips as he held her tight to his chest, cupping her face in his hand, smiling against her lips. Pulling back after a moment he peppered kissed across her face, heart pounding in his ears at the sound of her elated laughter, a slight gasp slipping from her mouth as he dropped to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her hips, pressing a kiss to her uniform covered stomach before resting his head there, ear pressed against the starched fabric of her apron, his hands gliding over the back of her thighs. Shelagh ran a hand through his hair, stroking his head as she felt the material of her dress dampen where her husband was pressed to her belly, clinging tightly.

“I love you,” he breathed into the cloth, the words permeating onto her skin in warm murmurs, causing her heart to clench beneath her ribs. “I do. I love you so much Shelagh. Words can't even -” his voice broke then as he looked up at her, eyes rimmed in red as tears slipped through his lashes, sliding down the crags of his face and catching in the light layer of stubble that graced his chin. She reached down, brushing the dampness away, her own eyes watering at her husband’s expression of adoration and elation.

“We love you too,” she answered. “So you're happy?” The words had barely escaped her when Patrick was on his feet, grabbing her and lifting her from the ground, spinning her in a circle as he laughed, the noise booming through the waiting room.

“Oh my darling, I'm so happy,” he beamed, resting her feet back on the floor after a moment. Shelagh cuddled close to him then, resting her ear above his heart to hear the staccato rhythm it was pounding beneath his shirt. “How have you been feeling? Do you need anything?” He queried, keeping her close as the words rumbled out of him.

“I'm afraid you may have to take over making breakfast. The smell of eggs and milk has been… rather unsettling,” she replied, scrunching her nose up at the latent nausea that rattled through her at the thought of breakfast. Patrick dropped a kiss to her hair.

“The children will hate it, but I'm sure they'll learn to cope when they find out why Mummy isn't feeling well,” he chuckled. “Let’s go home love, let you get some rest.” He wrapped an arm around her waist as he led her towards the door, tucking her drawing into his breast pocket, close to his heart. His fingers strayed to her belly as they left the surgery, stroking over the miracle that rested within her, the smile never leaving his face.

 


	3. 6x02 - He's Distracting

He can’t seem to keep his hands off her once he knows. It’s terribly distracting, the way he comes up behind her when she’s attempting to get through cooking without gagging, just to find his hand slipping about her waist. Or when the surgery is empty save for the patients ensconced in the maternity home and he stands behind her while she puts files away, fingers hovering over her belt, pressing softly into the fabric of her apron and uniform dress. She can’t be mad, scoffing slightly through giggles as she shoves him away more often than not, cheeks flushing crimson. She’s not ready for anyone else to know their little secret quite yet, apart from her husband and Sister Julienne.

It isn’t that she doesn’t love the attention, because she does, but she’s still wrapping her mind around the new reality that she finds herself in which makes it difficult. She chastises Patrick softly one night when they’re lying in bed and he’s stroking over her abdomen in circles.

“You’re not even touching where my uterus is,” she murmurs into the dark, voice thick was exhaustion that comes from growing a new human while constantly being ill. He chuckles against her neck, pressing a sloppy kiss to her exposed collarbone as he increases the pressure on her stomach just slightly.

“I know,” he answers into the twilight. “I just figured if I moved my hand much lower you would say I was being indecent. Especially in places where anyone could walk in and see,” he smiles against her skin. She can’t help but let out a soft laugh at his reasoning, snuggling backwards until she’s pressed completely against his chest, his arm encircling her until he’s clinging to her.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mumbles, yawning as her body quickly drags her to sleep.

She wants to tell the children, unsure of how to approach it, but knowing that sooner or later they’re going to find out. She’s surprised Timothy hasn’t brought up anything yet, the boy wise beyond his years and as observant as Sherlock Holmes in the way he approaches everything. She doubts Angela will understand aside from thinking there will be a new little one to push around in her pram that she got for Christmas. Shelagh won’t have the heart to tell the girl no until the baby is actually there, knowing her instincts to protect the fragile new life will prevent her from letting her daughter play with the infant.

She says as much late one evening after he presses his hand to her belly in his office, eyes filled with so much mirth even though there’s nothing to feel beneath her clothes yet, his fingers barely grazing the fabric. She can’t help but kiss him then, knowing he’s just as excited, if not more so, than she is in some ways. She hears him chuckle for a few moments even after she leaves the room, knowing he’s picturing their son’s disgusted expression when he will inevitably contemplate how his little brother or sister came to be. She shakes her head, letting her own fingers press against her stomach as she puts some files away.

“You’re going to have a lot of people to love you little one,” she murmurs. She can’t wait until she gets to feel an answering movement from within at the words.


	4. 6x02 - Patsy's Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't know how she's supposed to watch her leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very rarely write these two so please forgive me if I'm not exactly on character with them.

“I love you.” Delia whispers, watching at how Patsy’s face practically crumples as she closes the suitcase, her eyes lingering on the letter for a moment before the clasps snap shut and she moves it to the other bed.

“I can't do this,” the redhead says, voice thick as she closes her eyes against the emotions that rage inside her, fingers resting against the blue leather of her suitcase. Anguish at having to leave the woman she loves. Fear of going back to Hong Kong, the place where she had lost so much. Terror and sadness at the reality that she is only going back to watch her father, the last member of her biological family, die. She wants to scream, her heart pounding in her ears as she fights the desire to say she won’t go. That she will stay in Poplar because it will be easier to witness her father’s death from afar rather than at his bedside. She wishes that she could take Delia with her. That others wouldn’t ask questions if she took the brunette’s hand and dragged her to the docks with her. Wishes that Delia’s mother wouldn’t have such a sway over her daughter in convincing her that she shouldn’t go. She doesn’t want to go alone. To endure alone. To be alone.

“You have to.” Delia answers, hands going to Patsy’s hips as she moves closer, her own chest aching. She feels her fingers shaking as they slide against the material of Patsy’s shirt, so reminiscent of the first time she allowed herself to do this all those months ago, when they crossed the line between friends and something more. Images flash in her mind, heated kisses, soft skin, tousled hair and a euphoria that could only be found with another person coursing through her blood as her vision went white and her heart nearly exploded with desire and love. She can still remember the taste of Patsy’s lips that night, hints of mint and tea, her own hands hesitant but firm first against cloth, then beneath. She wishes she could go back to that moment. To the feeling of elation of finally finding someone she could be herself with and that could evoke more emotion in her than she ever thought possible. Instead, she resigns herself to knowing that this is the last kiss they’ll share until Patsy sets her feet back down in Poplar at some undetermined time in the future. Lest she lose her own mind and go rushing across the world until she finds herself in the streets of a country where she doesn’t speak the language and where she is lost in the crowd.

Fred barges in right before they kiss, barely giving them enough time to jump apart between when he knocks and when he enters with a “Your carriage has arrived.”  The silence hangs awkwardly in the room for a breath before Fred continues. “I'll grab your bag.” He takes the suitcase with a smile, ducking back into the hallway while whistling softly, the tune fading as he moves towards the stairs.

A sob catches in Patsy’s throat then, her arms wrapping around herself as she tries to convince her legs that they need to move. That she needs to move past the woman she loves, down the stairs, and into the taxi which will inevitably lead her to a situation she wants nothing to do with. She wants to grab Delia, to wrench the letter she had placed atop her clothes in that case and read what it says. To know what else the smaller woman wants to say to her. Instead she takes a deep breath, placing one foot in front of the other and moving slowly towards the door. If she remains in the room one moment longer she doesn’t think she will be able to move at all.

A hand on her wrist halts her progress however, Delia’s slight but strong frame spinning her around until the other woman launches at her, bringing their lips together and kissing her fiercely, her fingers tangling in the white linen of Patsy’s blouse.

“I love you,” Delia says again, words muffled between kisses as she holds Patsy to her, ignoring the door which remains wide open into the hallway. She doesn’t care if anyone sees. Knows the hell they would endure but views it as a lesser evil than letting the woman beneath her hands leave for weeks if not months on end without wrangling one last kiss out of her. Patsy clings to her then, her hands tight against the small of Delia’s back as she drags the woman against her, their kiss turning from gentle to all tongue and teeth.

“I love you too,” Patsy grinds out as she finally pulls back. Her lips are swollen, pupils dilated even as her eyes are rimmed in red. Her breath comes out in a shudder as she breaks away, running a hand across her hair to make sure that it’s presentable before they leave the room. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” she breathes, giving Delia’s fingers one last squeeze before she heads for the door.

“And I’ll be waiting.”


End file.
